


May You Live In.... Interesting Times

by Eirenei



Series: Scrapbook Jewels [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirenei/pseuds/Eirenei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'May you live in interesting times.' A blessing and a curse. Harry just had a misfortune of being hit with that particular curse and become unwitting partner of Spock Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May You Live In.... Interesting Times

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or Harry Potter, or it's characters – I just own this little itty bitty story. 'Nuff said.
> 
> Shout out: Uh… /stares/ This is one of my weirder works to date, but when I saw the prompt for writing Spock/Harry, it just hit me. Because I am an avid Kirk/Spock supporter, I left one beloved (younger) hobgoblin with his Kirk, but stole another for your amusement. Besides, Spock Prime deserves more loving, and because he doesn't have his Kirk-half, he was just too damn tempting to pass up. »May you live in interesting times,« is an ancient Chinese blessing, although some say it's also a curse. And no, I don't take the prompts, unless I have a good idea to write them with. Consider this my apology for the last chapter.
> 
> Warnings: SLASH – meaning male/male relations, in this case Harry Potter/Spock Prime. Mentions of non-consensual sexual situations. And changing point of view, from Harry to Spock Prime and back. That's all, now onward to reading!

* * *

He was exhausted. Sore. Bone-deep tired. His body ached in places he hadn't known it could ache. And to the top of it all, he was on an unknown planet – if not universe, somewhere in blood red desert in a sweltering hot cave and apparently bonded with a green-blooded hobgoblin of some sort. Yup, Harry mused wearily, his life was just peachy like that.

It all began with a woman, namely one Cho Chang, an ex-Ravenclaw and a hopeful contender for the prestigious name of Mrs. Potter. Oh, you didn't know? The war with Voldemort was over, and the Wizarding World was all happy and dandy all over again. Harry, not so much. When the first wave of euphoria had been swept away, people – at least witches – began to daydream about having a nice little cottage with a pretty white fence and all that rot, the pet exterminator of Dark Lords, named Harry Potter, included in the package.

Nifty. Only, Harry wasn't so sure he wanted his happily ever after being so mundane, but that didn't stop the witches from trying to score with him. In just under a month, Harry had become an expert on love, binding and attraction potions and spells, no matter how obscure they were. Even Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, hadn't known even a tenth of what her friendly neighbour celebrity had – but Harry wasn't exactly proud of his talents in that regard, even if they were quite impressive. Self-preservation and all that. Luckily, Ginny was hung on Dean Thomas, and the happy couple intended to wed soon – one Molly Weasley apparently didn't mind the happy sound of pitter-patter of her first grandchild, but she minded the said child being born out of wedlock very much. Of course, the young pair balked at first, but Mount Mama Weasley was unshakable in that regard, hence the pre-wedding madness – oops, _preparations,_ were in full swing.

Harry had reluctantly shackled up with pretty Chinese witch – if nothing else, she was a good deterrent for all those hopeful bitch – excuse me, _witches,_ that wanted their hunk-meat of a Man-Who-Won.

* * *

And there began Harry's untold woes. Cho was pretty intelligent – even more so as Hermione, but the bushy-haired witch got her beaten in that department with a dash of cunning and practical mind – being Muggleborn was more of an asset than hindrance, as it enabled the said Muggleborn witch or wizard to look at the matter from an... _unique_ viewpoints, so to speak. In her defence, Cho was still beautiful, now working as a supermodel for _Witch Weekly_ and she was also a reserve Seeker for Puddlemere United. However, despite her achievements, she was one needy, greedy, bitchy little girl. Harry had stopped counting how many times she had burst into tears just because something didn't go her way, or her accusations of Harry having an affair with some other woman or something. And in the same breath, the bint had dared to hint that Harry should grace her with an engagement ring sooner than later.

The last straw of that particular Hippogriff's back was broken on some particularly chilly Monday evening. Harry had just returned from work, tired as hell and just wanting to shower and sleep the time away, when he found the seething Cho in his living room, demanding just why was he seeing that Delacour hussy behind her back. Harry, tired and cranky as he was, didn't deign to tell her that Gabrielle Delacour wasn't his type, and that he definitely wasn't some kind of paedophile, thank you very much! He was just too tired for the bawling match as it were.

Well, Hell hath no fury like woman scorned, and Cho definitely suited that description.

The row escalated, and Harry, against all the common sense, turned his back on her, intent to march off under a steaming hot shower in order to get some peace and relaxation, after getting the last word in edgewise.

However, when Cho had called him, he just couldn't resist looking back – and his last sight consisted of a highly pissed and red in the face Chinese girl that shouted something in a foreign language – Harry suspected it was Chinese – and then, the opalescent coloured beam reached him, and the next thing Harry knew, was darkness.

* * *

Sighing, he surreptitiously shifted in the makeshift bed, subtly stretching his muscles and checking for any other damage besides the one in his butt. He was still freaked out a little – I mean, it's not every day you go straight from - well, being _straight, -_ to being bent in a circle, proverbially speaking. Not that Harry was adverse to gays or anything - to each bloke his own, he supposed, but finding himself under the amorous advances of a man – and we're not talking about innocent little _'let's-hold-hands-okay-honey'_ but the full-blown _'wanna-fuck-you-like-an-animal'_ ones. He had tried to stop the man – it was obviously a male, what with his... package, but to no avail. Even worse, his magic was still depleted from that little trip he had unwillingly undergone, so he was forced to rely on his reflexes and pure dumb luck.

However, his luck had taken a hike somewhere along the road and Harry suspected it would be a long, long time before it would deign to come back.

Slowly, he looked at his... partner. Whatever.

The male was easily taller than him, with a slender built that belied the strength he possessed. Olive hued skin was lightly flushed with green – the high cheeks and the tips of the being's wars, and let's not forget the... private parts. Harry flushed at that thought, refusing to look at the man's privates, no matter how fascinating the sight may have been. It just cemented his Hypothesis that whatever – or whoever had claimed him – was obviously an alien. Instead of that, Harry focused on pointy ears. It was, as if the man was some off-shot kin of Elves, but Harry didn't know any Elven race with so... awkwardly flared ears. They were not...delicate. Not at all! They were robustly made, as if someone took human ears and moulded them in desired pointy shape. But, Harry had to admit, he found those ears ... _cute_ in a way. The hair was messy black with lightly gray peppered strands at the being's temples. The face was one of a man in his middle years – not as youthful anymore, with skin sallowing a little, tiny scarecrow feet at the edges of the eyes, faint laughter and worry lines etched in the skin. Those fly-away eyebrows were deep black, and the nose reminded him of Snape's, only this one was in unbroken state and a little smaller. Thin lips were soft and slightly parched, and the chin was free of stubble. All in all, the face was an intriguing mix of human and alien traits... Harry blinked as he stared in those half-opened eyes.

They were dark.

_Black._

Wait a minute –

Those eyes were closed before, weren't they?

Harry blinked again. And then –

Green eyes widened as he flushed with embarrassment as he tried to scoot away from that – that –

Keyword. _Attempted._

The alien, hobgoblin, whatever – held him securely, not budging an inch, watching him with those damnably knowledgeable eyes.

Harry's blood ran cold. He was in a deep shit now.

He gulped.

' _Oh, shit.'_

* * *

He had to smile at his partner's _'deer-in-a-headlight'_ look on the face. It was... cute. The word would be an irrational choice for any ordinary Vulcan, but Spock Prime wasn't any ordinary Vulcan, and the long-term exposure to one James Tiberius Kirk had resulted in his human half being less repressed. Besides, it was a long time since that time, when he had been stick in the mud, so to speak. In his long years of life, he had learned to accept both halves of his unique heritage, and made them work at the maximum efficiency. Of course, there were problems at first, because he had been ashamed of not being a full-blooded Vulcan, but James had shown him that there should be no shame in that.

When he came to that... universe, he had been sure there wasn't anything more for him, besides guiding the young Kirk to the path his Kirk has led, and hope that the two stubborn younglings would admit their feelings to each other. He, himself, didn't have such a luxury – even if James had been the closest to _T'hy'la_ for him... until now.

The Genesis incident had changed it all. Instead of being blown up in prafactors, his body had been made younger, but still not so young as to be confused with Spock. At first, they had feared the side effects – nobody knew just how would his body function now, when he was young again. Nevertheless, half a year later, they had deducted, with 96.9 percent accuracy, that it would be alright.

And so, Spock Prime had lived his days on the New Vulcan in peace, doing research and occasionally interfering in political affairs as Ambassador Savik. He was still in contact with the troublesome duo of Jim Kirk and his counterpart Spock – it was always amusing to hear about their exploits. In addition, it seemed that the Spock of this universe would have more luck with his Kirk than he had with his.

It made his heart throb with both happiness and longing. In his time, the only bonds he had with his Kirk, were the bond of Captain and Commander, and later on, a friendship bond. The friendship was very strong, to the point they could almost read each other's thoughts, and that made them one of the best – no, the best tag team in history of Starfleet. However, all good things have to come to stop sometime, and Kirk was promoted to Admiral, married and got a kid. Spock hadn't had a chance to tell Kirk his... _feelings,_ but after Kirk had married, he had resolved to never even mention them to his dearest friend.

It was hard – the hardest thing he had done, letting Jim go. However,  that sacrifice was nothing in comparison with watching him die.

However, as humans were so fond to say, time heals all wounds, and Spock's heart had healed a little. His mind was not in similarly good shape. When he had melded with the Jim Kirk of this universe, he had to tightly leash his desire to not bond them irrevocably. Jim's mind was just as brilliant as ever, just as warm and inviting and fascinating... It took a herculean effort to finish the meld, to smile, and to tell those young, inquisitive, innocent eyes that it would be alright.

So his life was dull enough. Peaceful enough... until three days before, when the _pon farr_ struck.

At first, he had been confused. He had thought it was just some reaction to his little excursion to the desert, to do some meditation – his mind was more... hectic as usual lately, and he had thought it would do him some good, when he would have isolated him from all contacts, and after a week, he would be back home, hopefully with calm mind. First day he had made some headway with the meditation.

Second day, sometime in afternoon, the fever struck. And not in the usual, mild version – but he had gone straight to the middle stage. It seemed that his mental disciplines were good – too good, and he hadn't noticed the signs of himself being in _pon farr_ until it was almost too late to do anything. Luckily, he had been in desert, so he wouldn't be any danger to... prospective bond mates. Unluckily, he didn't have a means to communicate his plight to Sarek or anyone else, so the thought of getting help was out. Even worse, his mind had yearned for the touch, for a tangible connection with someone, anyone, but Jim Kirk would be preferable.

It seemed, Spock Prime supposed hazily, that his mind has, in some aspects, regressed, when he was hit with the Genesis solution. And _pon farr_ only showed that particular weakness more glaringly and cruelly than usual. He had thought he wouldn't need a bond mate – after all, he was, even if he was in a youthful body, old, and his time of _pon farr_ was well past.

But when he saw someone – a person – in his cave – his mental restrictions snapped. It wasn't important that this person was not his Jim, or that what he was doing, would be tantamount to rape – his body demanded its' due, and his mind was hungry and empty.

The man was smaller than him, clad in strange garments that were likened to Vulcan ceremonial robes to some extent. The material was strange – something between leather and silk, coloured in rusted ochre colour, the shade of Vulcan's dunes in the evening. It was, as if the person was here, as a sacrifice for his desires, and when he looked in those eyes – those deep green eyes, Spock Prime was certain.

The man fought like wild _sehlat_ , not giving a quarter, but Spock Prime was determined to have this fascinating being. His suppressed instincts flared up, and he had disrobed the trashing and protesting man, uncaring if he had torn the garments to the shreds.

The body under his was pale and marked with scars of all shapes and sizes. Some were faint, white streaks on the slightly rough skin, and some were angry red and raised slightly, as if they hadn't had enough time to heal properly and so they had been healed as good as they could be. One part of him was horrified, but his primal side was more than satisfied – his would-be bond mate was strong, and that was exactly what he needed.

When he was sheathed in the man, he involuntarily pressed the tips of his fingers to the meld points. The man was still gasping – partly from shock and partly from pain at the invasion, and those green eyes glittered in the light defiantly.

_*...parting and never parted..."_

He barely managed to utter the ritual words for the bonding, his mind was a inferno of feelings and irrational thoughts right now, and that wasn't good, as he would undoubtedly rip the fragile mind of his partner to the shreds –

Because humans were rarely more than psi-null, it was a real possibility. However, Spock Prime was astonished to discover that this particular human was anything but a psi-null. No human he had encountered in his long life had such an intricate mind defences like this one apparently had.

It was as if he had hit the iron wall, full throttle.

Unpleasant... and thrilling experience. His mind flames concentrate on bringing down the wall, in an effort to expose the innermost core of that mind, to pick it apart and meld it together with his. The wall responded with ice – sub-zero temperatures that almost made Spock Prime jerk away, but after a moment, such coldness actually appeased to him, making him a little more rational, and not the desperately clawing mind beast he had been before.

The howling of two forces thrilled him, and for the first time, he didn't think of Jim – not his Jim, not this universe's Jim, but he was aware only of that intriguing being which was resisting his advances, be that physical or mental ones.

By some chance or luck, he had managed to get in, and the man was too late to launch the secondary mind defences. It seemed that working with the maverick of Starfleet was paying at least – what had he done was sneaky and underhanded, just like what Jim had done with the ' _Kobayashi Maru',_ but it was necessary. He had to bond – he just had to, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would detract him from that.

The mind he had encountered was a sheer brilliance. Not like Jim's – but brilliance all the same. This mind was so complex it baffled him for a moment. Of course, the man – Harry – wasn't a genius, like Jim was, but in his own way, his mind was terrifying with it's possibilities, layers and whatnot. Harry's mind was just as chaotic as Jim's had been, but in this chaos, there was some semblance of order that prompted Spock Prime to tread lightly across the planes. The mind was constantly changing, like some bizarre kind of a Rubix cube, but infinitely more difficult and confusing. This mind, Spock Prime discovered, could be likened to sky – ever changing, ever moving, ever dangerous.

It was like being in a belly of the beast – and Spock Prime fervently wished that this beast – or whatever it was - would consent to bonding with him.

His mind, as scarred and needy as it was, latched on this brilliance, and Spock had a feeling that even if he weren't in a _pon farr_ , if he would meld with that man of his own free will, there would be no other outcome.

And suddenly, he was in the eye of a storm.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was here. It wasn't important. But this – this man, this Harry, his _T'hy'la_ – if Harry would consent to that, was fascinating. Spock Prime had seen many things in his life, but what had he seen of this man's life, completely blew anything he had ever encountered and experienced, out of proverbial water.

This man was not psi-null. In fact, Spock Prime wasn't even sure if Harry would even register on the psi-scale. If anything he had seen was true – and Spock Prime suspected it was, this man's psi ability was off the scales; and that fact excited, scared and confused him in equal measures.

The climax hit him like a freight train. He didn't even register it, so immersed in Harry's mind he was, and then, there was a nova, and then supernova of pleasure that made both of them shudder and convulse on the soft red sand helplessly.

And then, they blacked out.

* * *

His young partner was mortified, Spock Prime noted with amusement. It didn't help that Harry had been watching him for some minutes, and being caught in the act by Spock Prime himself, helped even less.

"I don't mind," He offered, an impish twinkle in his eye. At this, Harry reddened even further. "What – You – " The green-eyed man spluttered out, his face a pinnacle of bewilderment mixing with shame.

Spock Prime had to curb a chuckle that threatened to spill over his lips. "I'm sorry we've encountered each other like... that," He shrugged helplessly. His usual eloquence had fled from him, when he watched his bonded.

Harry blinked. "Damn right you should be," He grumbled out, poking into firm, warm chest sharply. "What in the nine hells was _that?"_

Spock Prime blinked. "I apologize for sexually assaulting you, but it was necessary." He watched Harry gape unceremoniously. "Whaa - _Necessary?_ " Harry parroted disbelievingly. "Since _when_ do the greetings include jumping my bones at sight?"

Spock just had to chuckle at that one. "Since now?" He offered, but Harry's disapproving face – more like pouting one – stopped that venue of teasing. He sobered. "If it were up to me, we would have met in more acceptable setting," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "Unfortunately, we don't have that luxury – and you had the misfortune of encountering me in _pon farr_."

Harry blinked. "Um... Heat?" he offered timidly. "It seemed that you've been in some kind of a heat, like a cat – " He babbled, before his eyes widened and he snapped his mouth shut. "Sorry," He apologized meekly. "It's just that - you kinda reminded me – "

Spock Prime nodded, relieved. "You are right. What makes our situation complicated is the fact that neither of us anticipated the _pon farr._ I should have known, for I had been in _pon farr_ before, but it was a long time since then, and I assumed the symptoms to be from the unbalance in my mind."

Harry blinked. "Huh. Interesting. And me coming across you probably didn't help the matters." He said thoughtfully.

"Actually, " Spock Prime offered, "You saved my life."

Harry just had to gape once again.

' _Saved his life. Well, thanks a bunch. Although the sex was good – no, bad, bad Harry! Don't even go there!'_ Harry's inner rant was cut short as the man touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Spock Prime asked, concerned.

Harry blinked. "Uh... No?" He offered. "You know, in my life, I had my share of bizarre adventures, but this one takes the cake." He told the older man sheepishly.

They were curled against each other, Spock Prime sheltering Harry from the approaching coldness, as they stared at the merrily crackling fire. "Indeed," the older man agreed. "However, I can't say I regret it. I only regret that I ... _hurt_ you..."

The man's voice conveyed sincere regret, and somewhere in the back of his skull, Harry knew it was true.

Exhaling shakily, Harry pressed himself to turn around and look into those dark eyes. "Shit happens," he told the remorseful man matter-of-factly. "We are here now, and if nothing else, I would like just where would this lead us. So," He extended his head in handshake. "Let's start anew. I'm Harry James Potter, pleased to meet you." A small smile played on his lips hesitantly.

Those dark eyes widened with tentative hope. "And I – I am Spock cha'Sarek; it's an honor to meet you," the older man's voice was shaking with repressed emotions.

They smiled at each other, as their hands touched in a gentle handshake.

"So, Spock, "Harry began conversationally, "Just what does that _'cha'Sarek'_ mean?"

Spock's smile was dazzling in his relief and sincerity. "It means son of Sarek."

While they talked, the fire crackled merrily, warming them and casting gentle shades on their faces. Neither of them minded their position – naked like on the day they were born, curled under Harry's ochre-coloured robe, body-to-body and skin against skin.

Neither of them knew what would the next days, or even future bring them, but they were ready to try.

Sometimes, the greatest curses may be just blessings in disguise.

* * *

_**/To Be Continued/** _

 


End file.
